My Heart Has Been Transfigured
by Galythia
Summary: This is a collection of Pottertalia fics that I'll be writing here and there as inspiration takes me. The first fic is for Sweethearts Week, but there will be more in the future that I will add to this. I ship them in all houses, and as professors or as students, so you've been warned! I'll always put their positions/background at the top. (Rated M for some smut)
1. From the Ground Up

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or Hetalia in any way. Their respective creators do a much better job with them than I ever could.

* * *

**From the Ground Up**

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**Background: **Alfred is head of the Gryffindor house, and is also the potions professor. Arthur is the head of the Hufflepuff house, and is also the herbology professor.

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"… And that's why you should _never_ hold this plant by its stem. Only by the leaf. Let me show you what happens if you don't heed my words."

The class watched, enraptured, as Professor Kirkland took his forceps and slowly approached the harmless looking flower from the side. It didn't look too different from a rose, actually, except for the fact that the petals were a milky translucent white, and the stem glowed with a subtle blue, as if veined with some radioactive azure sap.

Arthur had shown this demonstration countless times before, but each time was still just as nerve wrecking as the last, if not more so, because he already knew what was coming. Just as the class was waiting with abated breath, Arthur, too, was not allowing himself any room to breathe.

He came at the plant from the edges, knowing that the moment he touched the forceps to the plant and squeezed even the slightest bit, the reaction would occur. His nerves stood on end, and he felt jittery, like he did every time. Luckily, he had mastered the move enough that he hadn't been to the infirmary for this demonstration for four years already. _That _must have been something.

Arthur moved closer, and the students leaned in behind their protective barriers and defenses. Professor Kirkland was taking no chances, and based on the hype he had created around this one lesson, all the students expected it to be big. The upperclassmen had all boasted about it, but no one had ever said a word as to what actually occurred as a result. It was one of the great mysteries of third year biology, and a reason why so many students took the class. Arthur had transformed the subject when he had taken up the post of professor, changing it from a boring credit to a class actually worth taking.

The professor licked his lip and tensed his shoulders, struggling to keep his fingers steady. His breathing was calm, his gaze was focused, and all he had to do was move barely a centimeter more, and—

"_Hey Artie!_"

Arthur jumped backward, his forceps landing upon the ground with a resounding clang. The students jumped as well, all their heads swiveling to face the main door. There, warmly clad in at least four thick layers and fresh from the snow, was Alfred F. Jones, professor of potions, bright and beaming.

"Artie! I need your help!" Alfred rushed in and headed straight to the front of the class, bypassing the barrier as if it had nothing on him whatsoever. He had always had a knack for breaking down Arthur's defenses, which was perhaps why they were dating in the first place.

The students burst into laughter, it being no secret the two professors were an item, and a wonderfully adorable one at that. Professor Jones bursting in upon Professor Kirkland's lessons was an occurrence that happened at least once a month, though usually more often that that (and definitely _far _more often than the herbology professor would have liked, or at least would have admitted to liking).

Alfred rushed over to where Arthur was leaning against the wall, his hand upon his chest, his breathing still heavy and his heart still pounding away from the shock and the sudden rush of adrenaline.

"Arthur, I need a few stems of—" Alfred paused, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in the sight of his disheveled lover. "Are you okay?"

Arthur tried his best to glare at Alfred as he regained his breath. He was relieved that Alfred hadn't run right into the table, which would have probably knocked the plant over and caused an explosion bigger than this one greenhouse could contain. At least there was _that_ to be thankful for.

"You _know_ better than to do that by now, Professor Jones," Arthur muttered, straightening up and fixing his tie. He brushed himself off gingerly and cleared his throat, trying to regain whatever composure he could, for he was sure the whole class had heard him shriek in his moment of surprise earlier.

Alfred pouted and crossed his arms. "Don't call me that, Artie. That's boring." He harrumphed and tapped his feet in annoyance. "You always have such interesting names for me, especially after we've had particularly good se—"

"_Enough, Alfred!__" _Arthur glanced at his students nervously, trying to gauge if they caught that slip. The good news was that they were pretending not to have heard, but the bad news was that they were, well, _pretending_. And obviously so, at that._  
_

Alfred whirled around to face the class, his eyes lighting up as if he were noticing for the first time. "Oh, hey guys!" he exclaimed, waving with both arms in a way that Arthur deemed to be wholly unnecessary and overly emphatic. The potions professor then laughed and winked, adding, "You don't mind if I borrow Artie—err, Professor Kirkland—for a moment, do ya?"

"What? No, Alfred. I'm in the middle of cla—"

"Awww, Artie. But they don't mind, see?" Alfred murmured, gesturing to the crowd of students who were giggling at the absurdity that was this relationship they were witnessing between their two adored professors (possibly the two most adored professors in the school, aside from Professor Gilbert Beilschmidt, who somehow always managed to make Defense Against the Dark Arts a thrilling and new adventure each and every day—in a completely safe way, of course. Right).

Alfred turned back to Arthur, who was still trying to decide whether or not he was annoyed or amused, and took both of the herbology professor's hands in his. With an earnest smile that Arthur could _never_ refuse, he leaned down to best expose his wide puppy-dog cerulean eyes. Alfred had been inside the greenhouse plenty enough times to know which angle worked best for the lighting to be most optimal and effective in order for him to get what he wanted.

"Please, Arthur? It's snowing outside, so just let them go early today and enjoy their lives while they can."

Arthur bit his lip and turned back to his demonstration, the stem of the flower exactly where he had left it, everything still intact. It could keep until tomorrow if he carefully placed it into a cool place of storage, and he guessed it _was_ true that he hadn't spent time with Alfred in a while, ever since their last trip out to Hogsmeade two weeks ago, post-winter holiday. It couldn't hurt if just this once...

"Fine, fine," Arthur muttered. He turned back to the students and threw his hand up dismissively. "Shoo, you young rascals. You've got the rest of the day off thanks to Professor Jones, so you all best study for his potions exam next Friday." Arthur's eyes narrowed in a mock threat. "If any of you _don't_ pass, I'll be expecting you to do this highly dangerous demonstration yourself. In front of the whole class," he added, gesturing to the toxic plant before him, still lying upon the desk. "Now get going."

The class gave a cheer, quite a few of them actually thanking Alfred for giving them their afternoon of luxury. Alfred only winked back and murmured a few "you're welcome"s before the last of the class was out the door, highly thankful that their two professors were as silly in love as they were. It made life for the students a breeze, not to mention that it provided endless entertainment and worked as a constant source of gossip for the rest of the school, especially in instances like these.

Professor Jones was the silliest professor many of them had ever encountered for potions (and the first teacher as head of Gryffindor to hold that post in quite a while). Professor Kirkland was the brightest and most dedicated professor many of them had also ever met, and was a blast when it came to herbology, simply because the Hufflepuff head of house enjoyed the subject so much and only wished to share his enthusiasms with the world. Together, however, they were beyond amazing, not because their partnership yielded anything spectacular, but because their antics simply brightened up the school to no end. They might have been fully grown adults and full-fledged professors, but Jones and Kirkland brought out the children in each other, and what student didn't like to see that side of their professors?

When the last of the class was out the door, Arthur whirled around to face Alfred,scowling as he did so, though Alfred knew that that was only a sign of his deep affections. Arthur was nice to those that he barely knew, and when he started to frown around them, it was a sign that he liked them. And when he started to insult them and verbally toss them about, that's when it was obvious that he _really liked them. And then, in Alfred's case, Arthur had begun to hit him occasionally, though jokingly so, which was a clear sign that Arthur was deeply and truly in love. That was quite sweet, in Alfred's opinion (though perhaps he was biased, as he constituted one-half of this wonderful and magical loving relationship with Eyebrows over here)._

"Now what do you want?" Arthur asked, trying his hardest to be annoyed, though his vaguely smiling eyes betrayed him.

"Artie, don't be like that!" Alfred pouted, giving Arthur's hands a squeeze. "I just came to ask you a question, that's all."

Arthur chuckled a bit, unable to help his amusement at Alfred's adorable expression. However, since he was also trying to keep his composure and present a front of seriousness and irritation, his face ended up twitching between expressions in a way that only made him smile even more. He was only ever this ridiculous with Alfred, and it was only with Alfred that things were so damn hard yet so very easy at the same time.

"Was it really that urgent that you couldn't wait?"

"Of course!" Alfred replied. "You don't expect me to interrupt you for just anything, do you?"

"Oh yes I do. You always come for the stupidest reasons."

Arthur thought back to the last time that this had happened, which was about a month ago. Alfred had come bursting in in much of the same fashion, though that time carrying a cauldron with him as well, filled with some delicately pink and aromatic potion he was trying his best not to spill. He had placed it ceremoniously upon the desk, interrupting Arthur as he was in the middle of extracting a four legged worm-type creature from an apple to show to the class. Refusing to leave until Arthur had given the potion a taste, Alfred had stood there obnoxiously blocking everyone's view. Arthur had had no choice.

Even today, Arthur still shuddered to think about that experience. There was no better way to make a fool of yourself than to be potioned into declaring your love for your significant other constantly and loudly for twenty four hours straight. Needless to say, although everyone had had a laugh or two about it (even Arthur, at a point much later on), the herbology professor was _not_ amused at the time.

"Well it's different this time," Alfred replied, and with a sudden sincerity and warmth in his tone that it caught Arthur wholly off guard. He forgot for a moment that he was supposed to be annoyed, rather than a silly lovestruck wizard that would go to the ends of the earth and back just for this very man standing before him.

"You can't be serious," Arthur murmured, though his own tone was vague and absentminded as he stared at Alfred's earnest blue eyes. He took an involuntary step toward Alfred, unable to help that Alfred was just always so inviting, his arms so muscled that it was all Arthur yearned for to be wrapped up in them and to stay there forever.

"I am, though!" To make his point, Alfred stepped backward and out of Arthur's reach, breaking their little moment, as much as it pained him. "I need an ingredient."

Arthur scowled, unhappy at the sudden lack of proximity, but it did do the trick to get him to focus once again.

"An ingredient you couldn't wait for? Really." Arthur sighed and crossed his arms. If they weren't going to be holding Alfred's hands, then at least he could try his best to keep them warm. Of course, nothing could ever rival Alfred's space-heating capabilities, and thus, Arthur's hands were left wanting, despite his best efforts.

"Well, spit it out. What is it?"

Alfred ran a hand through his messy hair and grinned sheepishly, almost blushing even, though perhaps that was merely a trick of the light. He shifted his feet about for a moment before finally looking up, his expression actually somewhat tentative, a surprising look for one usually so bold.

"It's you."

And before Arthur could voice a reaction, Alfred reached out and took him by the arm, grinning. "Let's go!" he exclaimed, and ran off with Arthur in tow, no explanation to give but his shining smile and his gentle touch to soothe any of Arthur's possible worries.

* * *

Arthur found himself standing in the main potions classroom, surrounded by instruments, burners and beakers. There were a few potions that were silently bubbling away in their cauldrons far off to the side, but there was one main one that was taking center stage, clearly meant to be the point of attention—namely, Arthur's.

"What's this?" Arthur asked, gesturing unnecessarily at the pot, but he had always felt a bit useless standing before a cauldron, unable to do much else. Even in his years at Hogwarts ages ago, Arthur had never been a master of potions. He could barely remember the steps to some of the simpler ones, let alone tweak them or perhaps even invent a few of his own. Alfred, on the other hand, had been a natural from the moment he picked up his first ingredient. He had taken potions at one of the American wizarding institutions, and even at the young age of twelve, he had already thought up quite a few clever ones, some of which were practically in mainstream usage by this point.

Arthur had always admired Alfred's skill with potions, though he rarely ever admitted it. But they both knew that they respected each other's work, just as they knew that they would never ever look down upon one another for being a bit less skilled in the other's realm of teaching.

Alfred rounded the desk so that he was standing with the cauldron in between them. He futsed around a bit with a few ingredients, straightening a few bottles and vials in an obvious way of buying time. Arthur picked up on the fact that the potions professor was (in one of his rare moments) nervous, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

"What's—" Arthur began to try again.

"It's a potion, Arthur." Well, that much was obvious.

"What's it called?"

"It's one of my own invention, so it's yet to have a name."

Alfred was relieved that the questions were starting off easy. He still wasn't sure if making this potion was crossing any lines somewhere, but he sure liked the idea. Nevertheless, presenting things to Arthur was always difficult, considering the Brit sometimes made it nigh impossible to tell whether he liked something or not. He was either grumpy about everything, or graciously and politely accepting of everything. There wasn't much of a middle ground of truth to be had, even if Alfred was the one who came the closest to ever finding that area.

"All right," Arthur murmured, thinking to try another avenue. His curiosity was piqued, and now that Alfred had dragged him all the way here from the grounds, he felt like was owed a nice detailed explanation at the least. "What does it do, then?"

"It... well, it's a bit complicated to explain." Alfred scratched the back of his neck, glancing everywhere but at Arthur.

"Alfred," Arthur sighed, in the tone that the potions professor had come to learned meant that there was a long speech up ahead. Thus, before that could occur, since they both had class to attend to in only an hour or so, Alfred butted back in.

"How about I just show you?"

Arthur stared at the purplish, bubbling potion and nodded. Demonstrations were always his preferred method of teaching anyway.

"Now you need to trust me," Alfred began, as he pulled a small scalpel out from the drawer beneath the table. "I need your hand."

Arthur's eyes widened as he glanced warily in the direction of the blade. Another reason that he was terrible at potions was because he was always secretly terrified of cutting himself, especially when chopping ingredients. For some reason, working with pesky weeds and gardening tools was a different sort of experience that left him feeling satisfied. But knives in addition to slippery eyeballs and impossibly hardened dried beetles or anything else of the sort? No, thank you.

"I'm not sure, Al..."

"Don't you trust me, Arthur?"

The herbology professor looked up, his eyes meeting those bright blue ones, which were actually so serious and sincere that they almost caused Arthur to take a step backward. But these were the eyes that he had fallen in love with; these were the eyes that he dreamed about, that he longed to stare into for days and days on end.

Of _course_ he trusted these eyes.

With a sigh, Arthur grudgingly rolled up his sleeve and presented Alfred his hand. He kept his eyes carefully trained upon the desk, biting his lip as he braced himself for the pain. To his surprise, Alfred laughed. Arthur immediately got irritated.

"Alfre—"

"Artie, you're too funny." It was nice to see Alfred back to his mirthful self, if only for a moment. "I'm not going to cut _you_," Alfred explained, still shaking with laughter.

Arthur blushed, clearly annoyed and embarrassed at his silly mistake. Of course Alfred wouldn't cut him. Alfred knew from firsthand experience just how much Arthur hated knives. There were some good reasons why Arthur wasn't the best at cooking as well, after all.

Alfred took Arthur's proffered hand in his own and smiled sweetly. "What I need it for is to hold for this... err... ritual."

If Arthur hadn't been curious before, he sure was now. But before he could voice any of his questions, Alfred cut his own hand in one swift move, letting the blood drip into the cauldron. The hand was also still gripping Arthur's, so tightly that it almost hurt.

And then the incantation began.

It involved a few flicks of Alfred's wand with his free hand, a few more ingredients thrown in amidst the words, and quite a bit of tapping along Arthur's knuckles in a pattern that he could have sworn was based on Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up"—not that Arthur knew that song all that well, of course. Not at all.

There was a sudden gust of wind that surged up from the hall, and then, just like that, the moment ended.

Arthur stood there, feeling no different save for a few misaligned hairs here and there. Alfred seemed not so different either, his cut having healed up somewhere in the process. The potion was still purple and still bubbling away, though it seemed to be a bit more viscous now than it was before.

"Was that why you needed me? To hold your hand?" Arthur raised one skeptical eyebrow.

"It's not like I needed you here because I was scared, sheesh!" Alfred replied. "It was a crucial part of the spell—or at least I think it is, though I've never tried this before, as I've said." Although Alfred had rolled his eyes at Arthur's comment, his lips were upturned in a bright grin. The spell seemed to have worked, and now there was only one thing left to do: test it out.

Luckily, this wasn't a potion meant for drinking, otherwise Arthur would have probably balked at the idea, considering his last experience with taking something that Alfred had made. And since this potion wasn't meant for Alfred, the potions master wouldn't have tried it either.

"Now what?" Arthur asked. "You still haven't told me what it does."

"Well, I don't quite know what it does," Alfred replied, placing a small amount into a vial with a small dropper.

"Wait, what?"

Alfred turned off the flame and walked around the table. He held the vial up to the light so that Arthur could see through it and admire its translucent beauty in the sun.

"It sort of imprints to you. The potion, I mean."

"You mean it imprints to you, since it was your blood that went in there."

"Well... no. My blood was a sort of means of transfer, since I was touching you. You see, I think what I did was I took a piece of your spirit and—"

"You did _what?!_" Arthur backed up a few steps so that he could see Alfred's face clearly. The potions professor wasn't joking. He really had taken a piece of Arthur's soul—or at least he _thought _he did, which might have even been worse, considering how unsure he was sounding about everything.

"Relax, Arthur. It should work." Alfred saw that he needed to placate the herbology professor, and quickly at that. Arthur was starting to get that crazed look that could only mean he would go off and try some "stress-relief cooking" again, and no one needed a repeat of that experience. Nearly half of the east wing was still under repairs.

"Relax? _Relax?_ How can I relax when you—"

"Oh just come with me," Alfred muttered exasperatedly, pulling Arthur after him. They dashed up through various flights of stairs until they finally reached the outdoors once again. Alfred kept on running until he came upon a little piece of shade under a tree by the field where the greenhouses were held.

"Ready?"

Arthur was still a bit winded from the run, never having been quite as athletic as Alfred in all of their years together.

"Ready for what?" he panted out, his mind at least temporarily distracted from the fact that a piece of his soul had just been taken that afternoon. Just the usual day at Hogwarts for Professor Kirkland, of course. Just the usual.

"This."

And with great finesse and ceremony, Alfred unstoppered the vial and upturned the whole container so that its liquids streamed down upon the ground. Arthur gave a small cry of surprise, not having expected for everything to just be wasted like that, especially after all the work and the incantation and the blood and—oh, right. His _spirit_, for God's sake.

"What'd you do that for?" Arthur asked, gesturing at the ground in vague annoyance. But Alfred shushed him gently with a finger upon his lips. With a tingling excitement, Alfred pointed at the spot where the liquid had landed and murmured, "Look."

It was small at first, but it only took a few minutes for the sprout in the ground to grow to its full size. It was the height of an average bluebell, except that it held the oddest looking flowers Arthur had ever seen in all of his life. Beside him, he could hear Alfred take in a deep breath, and when Arthur looked up, he could see Alfred's cheeks were tinged red, and his eyes were shining with tears.

_What?_

"I don't understand," Arthur started. "What's so special about the—"

"Arthur, you love me! You really do love me!" Alfred exclaimed, as he suddenly pounced upon Arthur with the most emphatic hug the hapless herbology professor had ever received. Arthur was laughing at the overt display of affection, but he was also quite puzzled.

"What do you mean?" he asked, squeezing Alfred back. "Of course I do. You already know that, so why—"

"But _look, _Arthur," Alfred stated, gesturing to ground where the flowers had grown. He only let Arthur go enough so that the Briton could turn around and examine the little patch once again. "That potion was supposed to take what you loved most and express it in flower form. That's why I needed a part of your soul, so to speak." Alfred was grinning with so much happiness that Arthur thought he might have just bursted at any moment.

"So," Alfred continued, almost giddily jumping up and down, "look there and tell me what you see."

And Arthur did. He examined it for just a moment before his cheeks were ablaze once again, and he turned back to Alfred only to bury his face in Alfred's robes. The reason the flowers had looked so odd was because they formed neat, cursive letters instead of the conventional symmetric form. And on that plant, there was a smattering of "A"s, "F"s and "J"s, along with a generous amount of heart-shaped leaves.

"Does it surprise you?" Arthur muttered darkly, his voice muffled by the folds in Alfred's clothing. "Stupid git," he added, louder.

Alfred laughed and pulled Arthur close to him once more. He was so ecstatic and overjoyed that he was surprised it wasn't just overflowing into the air and permeating the grounds and the whole school.

"Happy anniversary, Arthur," he murmured, burying his nose into that sand-colored hair he adored so very much.

Arthur only grumbled in return, though Alfred had already received the message a thousand times over during his life thus far, and as such, he knew exactly what the Briton meant. And if all those instances before hadn't done the job, then those bright red flowers, still clearly visible in Alfred's view, sure did it just fine.

Alfred had meant for this to be a pleasant surprise for Arthur, but he had honestly had no idea that it would have been such a pleasant surprise for himself as well. Alfred had been gearing up for this all week, tweaking and retweaking until he was sure he had gotten it right, though he never tested it because he wanted this potion to be for Arthur and Arthur only, lover of all flora and fauna. It would have to be one of a kind, unique, and existing with only the sole purpose of making Arthur happy.

Just like Alfred himself.

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**Author's Comments:**

I think this is just going to be my ongoing collection of USUK Pottertalia one-shots from now on. I have too many ideas that are just jumping about hoping to be written, and I am so in love with Pottertalia right now that I'm just _melting_. Thus, I think I'll keep this as an ongoing document for a while, which I hope to fill with much more Pottertalia in the future! And considering that this is just a whimsical collection of my thoughts and others' thoughts, do not expect serious or great writing to come out of this. This is like my dumpy pile for all the stuff I might ever want to make into full stories too, but will most likely never gett eh chance. I'll spell check and grammar check, but that could just be about it. There's not much editing beyond that (for example, with this first fic, I didn't even have time to do a once-over. So these will all just be _very_ rough drafts.

Credit for this particular one-shot's storyline goes to Haku and Dunya, because they somehow manage to inspire me to write fluff when I usually can't even bear the thought of putting down non-angsty or dark stuff. This is the brainchild of what happens when you put us all in the same (virtual Twitter) room. And I bet that a lot of the rest of this Pottertalia one-shot anthology is going to be based off of their ideas as well.

This first story is also what's gonna count for my Sweethearts Week submission for Day 5 ("flowers")! Wheeeee~

As always, I love your reviews and I love to hear from you. Telling me what you think, what you liked or disliked, etc. is really helpful to me, and it improves my skill greatly, ensuring that I can bring you even better stuff in the future! (Plus, if you have any Pottertalia headcanons of your own, let me know, and whichever ones I'm inspired by, I'll definitely try to put it in writing and add it onto this anthology!)

Happy reading!  
Galythia

P.S. I can imagine and write about them in any house, working in any teaching post, etc. I think that they're dynamic enough characters that they can always bring something unique and new to any position or place I put them, and that's why I love USUK so much.


	2. Alfred's Dark Arts

**Alfred's Dark Arts**

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**Background:** Arthur is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (and is head of Slytherin). Alfred is a student in his last year and is captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team.

**Rating: **M (Explicit. No stops left; no strings attached. Pure aksjtkajstlkasj. You've been _warned_)

* * *

From the very first day of class that autumn, Alfred had kept his eyes carefully trained upon Hogwarts's new gossip-worthy Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Professor Arthur Kirkland.

There had been much speculation about who would fill the post from the time when the previous professor had quit unexpectedly mid-year, and a substitute auror from the ministry had been called in to help until they could find a new teacher. There were plenty of candidates and suggestions made, of course, considering that any professorship at Hogwarts was an esteemed and respected position, let alone one so crucial and important as that of personal defense.

However, no matter how hard any one party pushed, no decisions were made until the very last day of school the previous year, when the headmaster himself stepped up to the podium at dinner and announced, with the most satisfied smile upon his face, that he had found _the one_. No information had been divulged beyond that, leaving the students to speculate and gossip amongst themselves—a danger, considering the countless outlandish stories that their active imaginations could conjure up.

Some thought that the new professor was going to be a dragon that breathed his lessons into the air in pictorial smoke clouds; others somehow arrived at the conclusion that DAtDA would be taught by a group of self-righteous wood elves who viewed it as their personal mission to bring peace upon the land. And of course, there were a great many others who thought that the new professor would be just as boring as ever, just as regular and easily scared away.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

From the moment he made his initial appearance on the first day of school, nonchalantly sitting off to the side at breakfast, Professor Arthur Kirkland had captured everybody's attention. He wasn't loud, expressive, or visibly outstanding in any way, but he had this awe-inspiring and commanding air about him that somehow attracted a student's eyes the moment he or she stepped into the same room as the professor—and none more so than the bright blue eyes of one Alfred F. Jones, student extraordinaire and quite too bored for his own good.

Alfred not only looked, however, but he also observed. Over the first few months of the new term, he had absorbed information on Professor Kirkland like a Dementor's Kiss took in its victim's soul—that is to say that he did it actively, ceaselessly, and probably without intent for a good outcome (at least not for the hapless teacher, who was quickly becoming Alfred's next target professor for entertainment and boredom relief).

Alfred came to know everything, from the professor's schedule to his likes and dislikes, his teaching mannerisms, the way he liked his tea, etc. It wasn't as Alfred was even making that much of a conscious thought to learn about the teacher. Professor Kirkland was just attractive, in a great many senses of the word.

Alfred often found himself staring up at the row of teachers during meals, and he was usually so distracted in class itself that Alfred was called out on it almost every day, often multiple times. But he didn't mind that in the slightest; Professor Kirkland's voice sounded so indescribably hot whenever he said Alfred's name—or whenever he said anything, actually, for that matter.

The reason the students had been in such excited upheaval when the term had begun (Alfred included) was because Arthur Kirkland marked the youngest professor ever to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in the whole history of Hogwarts, coming into the position at just the ripe age of twenty-one, only a few years after graduating from this very school himself.

His young age was to be his downfall, or so everybody (including quite a few of the faculty) thought. At first, Alfred, much like any other student, had been sure that he would be able to scare the new professor quite easily. Defense Against the Dark Arts was never the most popular subject to teach mostly because of that exact reason: the students were merciless. And they definitely gave it a valiant try this time around, but Arthur Kirkland was not taking any of their farcical antics.

He made that perfectly clear on the very first day when he levitated a student upside-down for the whole class when she had spoken out of turn and commented upon his "fuzzy patches" of eyebrows. Arthur hadn't even replied to the comment. He had merely flicked his wand wordlessly and the student found himself hoisted up by his ankle to the center of the room, where she remained for the rest of the class (with her own textbook levitating right in front of her face, though; Arthur did value education quite highly).

There were a few similar incidents after that, but after the first week, all the students quickly learned and ceased their attempts—well, everybody except one especially rascally Alfred F. Jones, who only upped his efforts now that a good challenge was presenting itself. Defense Against the Dark Arts had always bored him before for his ease with the subject, but now—now that there was this nice change in "décor" to the class—DAtDA quickly became his favorite for the new year.

Arthur Kirkland tried his best to reprimand Alfred, but "that bloody rambunctious idiot of a student" could not have been diverted from his efforts. As hard as Arthur attempted to fight back, with stern comments, in-class disciplining magic, and the constant threats of extreme amounts of homework to be had, Alfred kept on doggedly pursuing his rascally ways.

Well, what could he say? The professor looked so darn attractive whenever he was riled up, with his reddened cheeks, his low, guttural voice, and his fully confrontational mannerisms. It was so _cute_, and it only made him want to play with the professor even more.

The best part, however, was the age. Luckily, Alfred had just passed his eighteenth birthday this past summer, meaning that he was free not only to admire and tease as much as he wished, but also to act upon those desires should the opportunity have ever arisen. And with only a three-year age difference, combined with his own perfect reputation and good intelligence (if he could say so himself), Alfred was actually quite sure he had a good chance of snagging the ever-aloof professor for at least one or two nights of covert shenanigans (even if the professor was likely never to see that part of their relationship coming along until it was too late). But Alfred was already scheming, and Friday afternoon presented him with the perfect opportunity to give that new goal his first try.

"Jones," a stern and exasperated voice called from the front of the room, causing Alfred to sit up and blink. His eyes, of course, were already trained in the right direction—that is to say that they had been holding steady right at Professor Kirkland's face.

"Jones," the professor said again, clearing his throat. "Pay attention, would you? This isn't the bloody quidditch pitch, so keep your flighty mind grounded." Mr. Kirkland tapped his pointer stick against the board. "If you would be_ so kind._"

A few classmates sniggered, an act that used to make the bespectacled student blush, but now only served to heighten his ego. It meant that he was good entertainment, and he had always been confident enough in himself to take some laughter every once in a while. Perhaps it kept him "grounded," as Professor Kirkland so neatly put it.

"Apologies, professor," Alfred replied, sounding not at all remorseful. In fact, he was grinning back at the teacher, his smile vaguely lopsided and his eyes twinkling mischievously with deeper meaning. And though Arthur stared back, his own satisfied smirk did falter ever so slightly, and his cheeks took on a subtle pink hue—two characteristics which did not pass Alfred's notice, especially when the professor eventually averted his eyes.

That had been happening more often in recent times. Alfred would do something in class that was borderline flirtatious, and as a result, he would manage to elicit these uncomfortable responses from the professor. He couldn't know for sure, but he had a feeling he knew what they meant: after months of teaching, Professor Kirkland had finally seen Alfred Jones for who he was, and he seemed to like what he saw.

Well, what a coincidence, since Alfred liked what he was seeing too. He was sure they could work _something_ out.

"Don't let it happen again," Mr. Kirkland reprimanded, though his gruff voice caught ever so slightly in his throat. He turned back to the class and continued his lesson without any further words, though every time he glanced over periodically, there Alfred would be, smirking right back. After all, those lightly blushing cheeks looked _so_ bitable, in Alfred's opinion.

When it was time to end the lesson, Alfred packed up his things as usual, ready to rush off to quidditch practice. This class had been especially satisfying, and he was perfectly happy leaving things as they were. Apparently, however, Professor Kirkland was not.

"Jones, please stay after class."

A few other classmates looked up from their departure preparations and laughed a little, shaking their head. Alfred must have been in deep trouble now, considering this poor student streak had been going on ever since the beginning of term, but Mr. Kirkland was only actively addressing it now outside of class. Something must have cracked, and Alfred was sure there would be gossip over the possibilities of his punishment the moment the students escaped the confines of the classroom.

"I've got quidditch—" Alfred began, though somewhat unsure that he really wanted to go in the face of this new intriguing offer of some private time with Arthur Kirkland instead.

"Elizaveta will understand," Arthur spoke confidently, knowing that she'd find it amusing if he did indeed manage to whip some seriousness into young Jones.

Alfred shrugged. He guessed he couldn't _argue_ with the words of a professor, so he obviously had _no choice_ but to stay. Thus, the bespectacled student waved off his straggling friends, with a wink and a promise of the full story of what happened later on in the common room that evening.

That made Arthur inwardly chuckle, amused that Jones thought there would be a story to tell that he wouldn't be too embarrassed to speak about. Arthur didn't take insolence lightly, and he knew his young age was a deficit to his credibility with the students and the other faculty members, but there was a good reason Headmaster Germania had personally asked Arthur to come back from his travel in Romania just to take up the once again vacated post at Hogwarts.

Arthur knew what he was worth, and he viewed it as his duty to ensure that nobody else underestimated him and all of his capabilities, least of all some foolish upstart of a student who had only his (brilliantly stunning) looks to serve as any remotely redeeming quality. Because if they went by Alfred's poor marks in DAtDA (irritatingly, the _only_ subject he seemed to be faltering in), Arthur wouldn't have even the slightest idea as to why he was so revered by his fellow students and Arthur's fellow colleagues. It was even worse when he had learned only yesterday that Alfred had been brilliant in DAtDA until just this year.

What was Arthur doing wrong in his style of tutelage?

"So what can I do for you, prof?" Alfred asked, turning back to his professor with his arms wide open, as if he were some magical genie able to grant Arthur even his deepest and darkest wishes (a wish which, unbeknownst to the dense Briton himself, involved Alfred but did _not_ involve clothes).

"The name is _'Professor Kirkland_,' Jones," Arthur reprimanded right off the bat, crossing his arms and wincing at the sound of that grating(ly beautiful) American accident. "You should get that into your head, if you know what's best for you."

"And you think you know what's best for me?" Alfred asked, smiling and already liking where this was going. He made sure to reach up and loosen his tie ever so slightly, knowing that it'd expose that part of his neck that he had seen Arthur—_Professor Kirkland_—admiring so many times in the past whenever he would lean over to check on Alfred's handiwork during class. And of course, Alfred would make sure to suck at those times so that Arthur would keep coming back more and more to check. A brilliant plan, if he could say so himself.

"I am your teacher, Jones. I do not _think_ I know what's best for you. I _do_ know what's best for you." Arthur looked up at Alfred to make his point, though he had always been highly annoyed at the fact that he was only very slightly shorter than the student. The display of power never went well with Arthur already at a visible disadvantage from the start.

Alfred chuckled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He swaggered over to the desk, walking with slow confidence as he closed the distance until Arthur had to take an involuntary step backward. Alfred stopped there, satisfied for the moment that he was already up by two points, and the game had barely even started.

Arthur could see his loss as well, and strove to recover ground. He _was _the teacher between the two, after all, and Merlin be damned if he'd let Jones show him up even further.

"In any case," Arthur muttered, crossing his arms to make sure that Alfred kept back behind that line, although the quidditch player's chest was somehow suddenly precariously close to touching Arthur's hand as it was. "I'm sure you know why I asked you to stay behind."

"Hmm… Do I?" Alfred turned on his charms in an instant, placing one hand on the desk behind his professor, leaning on it as he came just a tiny bit closer to eliminating the space between them. He could smell Professor Kirkland's warm inviting scent, which always reminded him of tea and scones. Raspberry scones.

How aptly _delectable_.

"You _should_," Arthur replied, glad that his voice was keeping even despite the suddenly rapid beating of his heart. Something had changed abruptly just then, as if the air had become charged with enough energy to take down all the wards covering Hogwarts, even the ancient ones. The power of it should have terrified Arthur, but somehow, he was quite sure that that tightening of his chest just then was not caused by fear.

"You're flighty," Arthur continued, trying to use his irritation to regain control of his body. Jones was attractive from afar, but at such a close proximity, he was undoubtedly gorgeous. That was incredibly distracting, especially when Arthur was trying to honestly make a point. "And you're insolent, annoying, and overly disruptive!"

"Not to mention loud, distracting, and devilishly handsome."

"_Exactl—!_"

Alfred smirked down at Arthur in silence as he could see the professor work through it slowly in his mind. For someone so bright to have gained an esteemed Hogwarts professorship at such a young age, Mr. Kirkland sure was easy to mess with sometimes.

Arthur's cheeks turned bright red, despite himself. He had agreed with those words in his head, and that had somehow translated into a verbal agreement as well. By Salazar's tongue, he was seldom ever this quick to be flustered. There was just something frustratingly provocative about Alfred, in every sense of the word.

"That was not amusing," Arthur commented darkly, and he would have looked downright terrifying in his formidable stance had his cheeks not been blazing crimson deeper than Gryffindor's banner. It turned a scary professor into someone completely adorable, in Alfred's opinion. "I do not appreciate your unruly mockery, Jones."

"Oh?" Alfred chuckled. "And what _do_ you appreciate?" The quidditch captain leaned in just a tiny bit further, so that he was practically cornering the professor against his table.

"Is it just… me?" Alfred whispered, trying his best to sound sexy. Well, he didn't need to try in order to achieve it, in his opinion.

But God, it had been a while since he had flirted so openly. But none of the students at the school particularly interested him enough (mentally and physically) for him to want to pursue them. Now teachers, on the other hand… well, he had never come on to a professor before, but there was always a first time for everything. Plus, with barely three years between them, there was hardly even an argument that could have been made.

"Step back, Jones," Arthur muttered, though his face was red and his heart was beating rapidly. No one at this school ought to have known his sexual orientation, so Alfred was either an incredibly astute student or a very good guesser. Chances were, it was a combination of both.

When Alfred made no move to shift, Arthur clenched his fists and tried again, turning so that he could stare Alfred right in the eyes.

"I said," the professor spoke, taking on his trademark commanding air that worked wonders on everybody _but_ Alfred, "_step back_."

Alfred rolled his shoulders and cocked his head to one side, a smug smile playing at his lips. He stared right back at those invitingly dark, green eyes, silently admiring the flecks of gold he had never had the privilege of seeing until now. Those eyes were hardened in a determined gaze, thoroughly impressing Alfred, for he had no idea that Mr. Kirkland would still be holding out even now. Perhaps this professor had more steel than Alfred had initially thought.

Alfred moved so that his lips were right next to Professor Kirkland's left ear. He chuckled softly, trying to resist the urge to just take a nibble then and there.

"Make me," Alfred challenged, letting the whisper roll off his lips like some sensually warm fog.

Arthur shivered involuntarily, able to feel Alfred's warm breath upon his earlobe, caressing his cheek, wrapping itself around Arthur's throat to the point where he could barely remember how to breathe.

"You… you asked for it," Arthur managed to say, though it hardly sounded like a threat, considering his mind was otherwise occupied, trying to fight down the stirring in his trousers. This was a completely new side of Alfred, which Arthur previously had not known existed, but now that they were becoming acquainted, it terrified him that he didn't actually dislike it all that much.

On the contrary, it was rather _sexy_.

"You called me here about my disruptiveness in class, right?" Alfred murmured. "Something about my plummeting grades and how I might need _extra help_?" The quidditch captain chuckled and reached a hand up to play with the edge of the professor's soft, black robes.

"Will you give me detention, professor?" Alfred continued, digging his fingers deeper into the fabric when he received no resistance in response, "Will you… _punish me_?"

That was it.

Arthur had had enough of these silly antics. He needed to get out of here and soon, otherwise he was sure he would end up doing something he would undoubtedly regret later. Jones was a more formidable adversary than Arthur had given him credit for. The professor needed to regroup and rethink his plans—and change his goddamned trousers, for that matter.

"Enough," Arthur growled, and in an instant, he managed to slip out of Alfred's grasp. He moved quickly around to place the desk between them, making it difficult for Alfred to make any further moves and confusing Arthur's brain even more than it was already jumbled.

He was a _teacher_, for Merlin's sake.

Arthur sighed. He had to let this one go. Accede the battle to win the war. "We are finished," Arthur decided. "Since you seem to know your own problems, there is no punishment of any sort. No detention, no repetitive sentence writing, no—"

"Awwww, Arthur," Alfred interrupted, placing both hands upon the desk. "You're no fun."

"That's Professor Kirkland to you, Jones. _Professor Kirkland_," Arthur seethed through clenched teeth.

"Admit it, _Arthur_," Alfred replied, leaning in upon his hands. "You like it when I say your name."

"Not at all," the professor replied, though the crimson on his cheeks betrayed his deeper truths. Arthur could see that he was losing quite badly, and what was worse was that half of him didn't even seem to mind. After all, would it really be considered a loss if Alfred Jones, ever sexy and quite intelligent (except for in DAtDA, but Arthur was starting to see that for the admittedly clever ruse that it was) was interested in starting something here?

Arthur had never been good at lying to himself. He knew he had been attracted to the student from the very first day, right from the moment when Alfred had plopped into a seat right at the front and center and murmured good morning. That voice had been in Arthur's dreams ever since.

Perhaps he really was too young to keep a hold on these rascally students, Arthur thought. Headmaster Germania had likely made a mistake in choosing him, though Arthur was loathe to admit it. He had wanted to excel at his job, but here he was, already feeling hot and bothered over a student, of all people. A _student_.

"Let's cut to the chase," Alfred began, snapping Arthur back to reality. "It's obvious you like me—_don't even argue_." The Gryffindor student held up a finger to silence the professor and continued, "And it's clear I sorta like you too. So what exactly is the problem?"

Well, what _was_ the problem?

Arthur was appalled. Was he seriously gauging this possibility? His first position as a teacher and he was already thinking of tossing it away, all for one sarcastically frustrating idiot of a student? There wasn't even anything in it for him. Well, there wasn't anything in it for him but Alfred—and if you asked Arthur's body right now (and perhaps his mind as well), that might have just been incentive enough.

"For God's sake, I'm your professor, Jones!" Arthur tried to argue, giving in as he saw that there was no avoiding this conversation now.

"So?" Alfred replied, seeing no problem with the situation still. "You seem quite sexually frustrated, from what I can see. You like me, and I like you, so I don't see why anything, especially a few titles and job positions, could get in the way of us having a bit of fun, right?"

"It's... It's improper," Arthur argued back, though his shoulders were already subconsciously lowering in permission, even as the words escaped his lips. "And what do you mean 'sexually frustrated'?! I'll have you know that I—"

Alfred leaned over the table and gripped Arthur by the collar of his robes, so fast that it cut off whatever else the professor was going to say. In the flash of an instant, he had dragged the professor half over the desk and locked lips with the man, strong and insistent, despite Arthur's surprised flailing.

Arthur tried to yell back and resist, but it only came through as muffled mumbling, if not a little bit excited in an easily misunderstand able sense. And Alfred took his opportunity to misunderstand all he want.

As he held the kiss, expertly moving his lips over the professor's as he ran his tongue along Arthur's bottom lip, Alfred swung his legs upon the spacious desk. Then he reached over, bypassing Arthur's frantically gesturing arms, and unceremoniously escorted the teacher onto the desk as well, landing the man right on Alfred's welcoming lap.

"You were saying?" Alfred murmured, pulling away for just a brief breather.

"Geroff," Arthur muttered breathlessly, trying his hardest to sound commanding. But he couldn't help the fact that honestly, that was the best kiss he had ever received. God, how embarrassing it was that Alfred was more experienced than Arthur in this area, despite Arthur being three years his senior.

"You're on me, sweetheart," Alfred reminded with a chuckle, shifting his knees underneath ever so slightly to make a point.

"Don't call me that," Arthur growled, twisting away, but Alfred's incredible strength kept him hostage (though that would imply that he was being held was against his will, which Arthur wasn't even sure of at the moment). "Nicknames, especially your demeaning ones, are the epitome of rudeness, Jones. My name is—"

"Arthur Kirkland," Alfred hummed, coming in for another kiss, "also known as 'sexy professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts' and—_man_ you taste like raspberries."

Alfred darted his tongue over Arthur's lips, causing the latter to swoon despite himself. Arthur was growing a bit dizzy from the heat, actually. And as if Alfred had read his mind, the student stopped the second kiss momentarily and laughed.

"Getting a bit hot and bothered, professor?"

"No such thing," Arthur replied, loosening up the collar to his robes. "Just thinking of how much you're going to pay for this." Arthur smirked. "Eternal detention, I think."

"With you? I wouldn't mind in the slightest." Alfred reached a hand up to cover Arthur's, taking over the job of loosening up those inconvenient layers. "Let me help you a bit there..."

"Don't you dare," Arthur threatened, tightening his grip on his own clothing. "I am your professor, Jones. And yes I may find you incredibly gorgeous, but you are still lacking quite a bit of—"

And then Arthur found himself hanging upside down in the air, his head a few feet above the desk. He flailed about for a bit as he reorientated himself with new his situation.

"What did you do?" Arthur yelled, glancing about him. The oddest feeling of vertigo shot through his system, dizzying him once again. Suddenly, he was walking on air, his desk was hanging above his head, and somehow, by some stupid divination of God, Alfred was _still_ just as handsome upside-down. Now was that really fair?

Alfred chuckled as he shifted to look Arthur in the face, their eyes just barely level with each other's. He reached up with one hand and began to untie the string that held together Arthur's robes, which were not falling down with gravity as they ought to have been. Curious.

"I simply made the route to 'success' more efficient," Alfred explained. "Though you must recognize the handiwork of this spell, don't you?" The quidditch player smirked, running his finger along Arthur's exposed collarbone. "Perhaps I wasn't inattentive like you previously thought, professor."

"Yes, Jones, you are far _more_ inattentive than I had thought," Arthur grumbled, reaching for his wand. His clothes were charmed to always stay oriented the way his body was, simply as a force of habit from embarrassing tree-climbing experiences in his past. "You must be stupid if you don't think I can undo my own spell."

"And you must be not that bright yourself if you think I wouldn't have tweaked it before using it on you," Alfred shot back, his fingers working leisurely but surely. "Defense Against the Dark Arts is actually my strong suit."

"And so is being an irritating prick," Arthur muttered.

Alfred ignored that comment as he untied the final knot. The robes came loose and dropped… up to Arthur's feet. Charmed gravitational orientation didn't help clothing stay _on_ the body, and Arthur made a note to think that through for next time—next time after he murdered Jones for his (incredibly arousing) insolence.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Alfred groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You have a full suit underneath this?" He gestured haphazardly at the brown tweed jacket, complete with light brown waistcoat and an expertly knotted red tie.

Arthur grinned triumphantly as his fingers worked away at an extremely difficult wordless and wandless incantation behind his back, hidden away from Alfred's view.

"What were you saying about efficiency?" Arthur gloated, glad that he was finally up by one point. He liked wearing layers. It was comfortable, in addition to being classy as hell. Women liked classy professors.

And apparently, so did Alfred Jones.

"I can get this done fast enough," Alfred replied, his fingers already working at the jacket buttons. His eyes were set in this steely and determined gaze which aroused Arthur to no end. If Alfred could transfer such hardened focus to his studies, Arthur was sure he'd be _amazing_, not just spectacular and damn attractive like the student already was.

Alfred worked at the clothing as Arthur worked at his spell, trying to keep it a clandestine affair—which was much easier said than done. Alfred did work quickly, as he had boasted, and though Arthur's fingers were dexterous themselves, old and ancient hand-worked incantations were a bastard to complete. They were moody and irregular, and Arthur swore they PMS-ed just like irritable women. This was why they fell off into rare disuse, just like the muggle study of the Latin language. But Arthur had always had a knack and a liking for tradition, and it came in handy for situations like this—not that he found himself sexually assaulted by students all that often.

Alfred had managed to undo everything but Arthur's pants when the professor was complete with his preparations. One more flick of his forefinger was all it took, and then Arthur would be free.

"Feeling lucky, Jones?"

"Are you asking that because I get the grand privilege of witnessing your abs?" Alfred teased, his fingers pulling sensually at Arthur's belt. He was surprised that there had been little to no resistance thus far, ever since Arthur had been flipped upside down. Perhaps the professor had finally seen sense in Alfred's reasoning earlier.

"Not quite," Arthur replied, "though that's definitely a part of it. I'm glad you are smart enough to see what you should be grateful for in life."

Arthur was regaining confidence once again, now that he had magic on his side. Alfred had initially caught him by surprise, and though the student had been right, and though Arthur had indeed found himself falling ever so slightly for the rascally blond quidditch captain, this was barely the appropriate time to go about developing and acting upon such emotions. Arthur had class in a few hours, and Alfred was already beyond late for practice.

"Getting sassy, are we?" Alfred pulled the belt out of the loops, causing a satisfying slipping sound as the belt rubbed against the material of Arthur's trousers—a sound which hit them both right at their already throbbing crotches.

"You don't even know the half of it," Arthur replied, deciding it was time. With a grunt of effort (for old magic took a lot of energy and concentration), Arthur flicked his last finger forward and _voilà_. Alfred was flung to the other side of the room.

Alfred landed quite softly upon the ground, however, bouncing off the wall as if he were some indestructible beach ball. He did hold a look of surprise upon his face, but then again, so did Arthur. It was a result neither of them had expected.

Alfred was the first to recover.

"Did you just _throw me_? Without magic?" he asked, letting a little of his admiration and awe shine through, as if he were finally seeing Arthur's skill for the first time—which, he guessed, he _was_.

It wasn't as if Defense Against the Dark Arts offered a professor ample opportunity to demonstrate some of his higher skills, after all. And with how obviously brilliant Alfred was starting to realize Arthur was, it was a miracle that the professor wasn't bored out of his mind teaching mere children, despite being so close in age to some of them anyway.

"Just because it doesn't require words or a wand does not mean it is not magic, Jones," Arthur replied sternly and crossly, though it was clear that he was quite pleased with himself, underneath his teaching façade. "What I don't understand, though," he conceded, "is why you did not fall hard upon your arse so that I may ridicule you fittingly." If Alfred insisted that they move beyond a teacher-student relationship, then this would be Alfred's first look into Arthur's real adult side. Mr. Kirkland had quite a snarky mean streak when he needed it.

Alfred picked himself up and dusted himself off. He began to walk back to Arthur, stretching his muscles along the way, sinister and completely sexual revenge upon his mind.

"Quidditch," Alfred explained. "I invented a few charms that would keep me protected during the match, just in case, ya know, I crash into a wall or something." Alfred decided it was getting a bit too hot and nonchalantly discarded his robe along the way back to the desk, simply leaving it upon the floor as if he weren't just stripping in front of his already half naked professor.

"I guess it's a force of habit that I just keep them around all the time," Alfred continued, his voice deep and earthy, sounding so much more sensual and lascivious than what the meaning of his words ought to have carried across.

Somewhere along the way, he also decided that perhaps his sweater and shirt ought to have been discarded as well. By the time he got back to the table, Alfred was feeling much better, now that he was fully stretched, half undressed, and even more prepared for action than he had been before. Arthur fighting back had been arousing as hell.

Arthur would have replied to that comment earlier, had the sudden sight of Alfred's muscles not distracted him senseless. Those hardened abs, so well defined, were the embodiment of every Abercrombie and Fitch ad. And those sinewy muscles in his arms looked so tough and firm that Arthur couldn't help but immediately think that it'd be so very nice to lean against them.

_Stop it, Kirkland. Turn your twisted mind around_, he warned himself. But it was already too late. Arthur was addicted to the sight of Alfred Jones, and his greedy eyes only hungered for more.

Alfred gripped the edge of the table and leaned over so that they were eye-to-eye once again.

"We'll be having no more of that now, will we?" he purred, moving to the side in order to give Arthur's ear a slow, sensual lick. "Because although you might be putting up a battle, you have to admit it, Arthur—I mean, _professor_—you like me, and you love it when I play with you." To make his point, Alfred reached up and ran his fingers over the glaringly obvious bump in Arthur's trousers, causing the professor to moan loudly, despite himself.

"Fuck," Arthur yelled, gritting his teeth as he fought back another groan of pleasure while Alfred gave his crotch a sudden squeeze. Arthur's fingers struggled to work out another spell behind his back, but his body was in spasms, unable to be controlled much further as his mind started to give in to the pleasure.

"Trust me, I would love to," Alfred replied, his other hand coming up and beginning to get rid of the final clothing barrier between him and his prize. Alfred wanted his revenge for being thrown across the room. And he would take it by storm.

Arthur shuddered as Alfred's arm rubbed against his crotch once again, sending spasms of pleasure shooting through his body. Alfred's touch was electrifying, a magic beyond the realms of conventional understanding. Arthur tried to gather together his thoughts like before, but it had been true that he had been watching Jones for quite some time. Something about the frustrating way he would goof off in class, or the annoying way he would go against Arthur's every word definitely riled him up—in more ways than one. And now it was finally coming to a head, a point where things would burst if their mutual tension continued for much further.

As Arthur hung there, he realized that a part of him knew that this situation had been in the realm of possibilities right from the very beginning of their post-class conversation, that somewhere in his mind, he had known a disciplining session could have very well degenerated to this depraved and demented affair. And yet, Arthur had done it nevertheless. He had held Jones back, let the other students leave, watched Jones carefully as the student put his bag back down and sauntered over to the desk, hands in his pockets. Arthur had known from the very start, but his body must have wanted it.

His body _still_ wanted it.

Alfred was right. Where would be the harm in doing this a little here and there, and if they kept things a secret, there would be none the wiser, yes? It could be their little thing, and Arthur knew he desperately craved it simply by the fact that his chest tightened up considerably at the thought of sharing something clandestine with the student. And it wasn't with just any student, mind you; it was with Alfred Fucking Jones, star of the Gryffindor quidditch team, popular stud among his peers, and student extraordinaire in intelligence and in natural skill. It was with perfection himself.

So bugger those rules. It might have just screwed Arthur's career over in the long run, but at least for now, it would just be _Alfred_ screwing Arthur, and that was far more than enough to make up for it in the professor's suddenly nearsighted mind.

"So, Professor Kirkland," Alfred murmured sweetly, his gentle and mild tone disguising the mischief evident upon his expression as he pulled down (or rather up) the zipper and hooked his fingers beneath the rim. "Any complaints before I devour you whole?"

"Yes," Arthur replied breathily. "For someone so boastfully experienced, you're damn slow at this."

* * *

Arthur moaned as he felt something enter him from behind. The sound was muffled, however, considering the professor's lips were wrapped snugly around Alfred's hard length.

"What is that?" Arthur tried to ask, though it only came out as a series of noises stemming from the back of his throat, which caused Alfred to groan and thrust in even further. The student entwined his fingers in Arthur's soft, messy hair, using it as leverage to dig in until he could feel the back of the professor's throat.

Alfred began to build up a rhythm, sitting there upon the desk as Arthur knelt upon the ground, his head between the student's thighs. Something slick, lubricated and seemingly huge was entering Arthur from the back, causing the professor's knees to buckle with pleasure and the occasional offshoot of pain. Arthur had a vague suspicion that it was a dildo of some sort, since Alfred's free hand was moving his wand up and down in the same rhythm as well (his _real_ wand, that is).

"Fuck," Alfred exclaimed softly. "Not so inexperienced, are you, professor?"

Arthur managed to half roll his eyes as he continued to work away at Alfred's throbbing member. _I wasn't born yesterday, Jones_.

The professor moved off only to come back and give the whole length a nice long lick, just as he had quickly learned Alfred liked. He was learning a great many things about Alfred's likes and dislikes, actually, just as the student was learning plenty about Arthur's, like how he seemed to really enjoy erratic rhythms, rather than something constant. Thus, Alfred was currently running the dildo down there through the beat of the William Tell Overture, which was quite beneficial to him, actually, considering how much more wantonly aroused it made Arthur as a result.

Alfred felt his insides tighten up, a clear sign that the end was coming, and much faster than Alfred wanted it to. Thus, he grabbed Arthur by the hair and pulled him off, gently but firmly, groaning with immediate regret the moment he felt the cold air hit him once again. But he wanted this to last; he wanted to savor it, because honestly, this was the best sex he had ever had, and they hadn't even gotten to the actual _sex_ part yet.

Alfred knew by then that he had definitely underestimated Professor Arthur Kirkland.

Being a man so stuffy and uptight, Alfred had been sure the professor had never gotten laid before, or that if he had, he would have been quavering in nervousness through it all, like some innocently naive child. But judging from how their time was going so far (the first out of many to come), it was clear that Professor Kirkland had not only experienced his fair share of action, but had also been in control of a great many of those situations. Underneath those irritated scowls and that pale book-nerd complexion lay a man quite ferocious, quite bold, and _quite _experienced.

It was highly in the realm of possibilities that Alfred was the very first person to ever be on top when it came to relationships with Arthur Kirkland—and the student felt quite a bit of pride (and surprise) at that idea.

The quidditch captain smirked down at his professor's face, eyes twinkling as he watched the teacher wipe a bit of straggling saliva away from his full, red lips. His messy hair in the diminishing sunlight only served to heighten his attractive qualities, and it was all Alfred could do not to throw the man down right then and there and take him.

Actually, why would he have to stop himself?

"Get up here," Alfred ordered, trying his hand at being commanding rather than just delectably alluring.

Arthur turned his emerald eyes upon Alfred, the irises shining with clarity and sharp with annoyance. "You might have me here, Jones," he muttered, "but I _am_ still your professor. I don't take commands from my students."

"Please, call me Alfred," the bespectacled blond replied with a chuckle, clearly unfazed. "And if you don't take orders, then move on your own free will. Either way, you'll be up here in no time." Alfred winked and clicked his tongue against his teeth, his own sexy effect a little bit ruined by his flushed cheeks and still slightly breathless tone. It was difficult to remember sometimes that Alfred was still barely legal, for he was often so confident and strong. Then again, it was also hard to imagine that Arthur was a professor of such an important post at only an age three years older.

Arthur grumbled darkly but stood up nevertheless, though he fell back down right on top of Alfred the moment he tried to move. It was the fault of the William Tell Overture, which was still pounding away back there.

"Can't get enough of me, can you?" Alfred asked, laughing as he pulled Arthur up the rest of the way. The professor struggled a bit, not liking that he needed assistance.

"Well, if you would just get the damn thing out of my arse, then—"

"Patience, professor dear. Patience," Alfred whispered, flipping the two of them over so that Arthur was lying on his back upon the desk. He reached down and gripped the end of the dildo, his eyes glinting as he pulled the whole thing out with one swift move.

Arthur gave a cry of pain mingled with ecstasy that left his vision blurry and the room spinning ever so slightly. The professor rolled his head over and blocked out some of the sunlight as he brought his arm up to cover his eyes. Part of him still couldn't quite believe that he was even here, about to have sex with a student right on the very desk where he taught every day. Another part of him was impatiently _screeching_ for Alfred to just get a move on with it, and that part was winning out over the twisted knots that were gradually building up in Arthur's stomach. He could dwell upon the depravity of it all at a later point.

Arthur opened his mouth to complain that Alfred really was too slow, but was interrupted by a sudden light touch upon his lips. The professor moved his arm a bit and opened his eyes, only to come face to face with a pair of startling blue ones staring right back, only a few centimeters apart. Alfred had kissed him, and quite suddenly as well. Very softly and gently, so surprising and unlike the rest of their interactions that far.

Alfred pulled back after a moment and beamed down at Arthur, his smile actually genuine and sincere. It threw the professor off for a bit, but he quickly realized he liked this side of Alfred too. He liked all sides of Alfred, actually, the good and the bad—if there were any bad to be had, that is.

"What's with the—"

"Shush," Alfred whispered, placing a firm finger upon Arthur's startled lips. "I just wanted to actually make sure you were okay with this."

"_What?_" Arthur exclaimed, vaguely muffled by the hold Alfred still had on his ability to speak. "Since when did you show any care as to what I wanted?"

"I don't rape people, prof—Arthur."

That hurt, oddly enough. It took the professor a moment to realize that the reason it stung was because the way Alfred had said it made it sound like he did this often. Perhaps it wasn't with other professors, but it seemed like sex was something that Alfred used to his fill and then quickly threw away afterward, much like any old condom. Arthur didn't like being akin to a latex "safe sex" tool.

But he really was touched at this sudden act of kindness. Many others might have just run with it when they had the opportunity, and it was heartwarming to see that beneath that cool face of a sex god, Alfred had a side to him that really cared about others as well. But that was no surprise, come to think of it, considering that Alfred was a popular student for many reasons, one of which being that he was always looking out for others. Arthur just never thought he'd get that courtesy extended to him as well, especially if they were simply doing this as a fling. It was... sweet. Sweet, and so unbelievably Alfred.

The professor snorted and rolled his eyes, though he was smiling nevertheless. "I didn't think you did, Jones," he replied. "Now get along with it, before I decide that it's high time I really _did_ punish you for your insolence." That was the closest Arthur would ever come to acknowledging his burning thirst for Alfred's touch, his desire to be gently held yet roughly fucked by Alfred at the same time, the unquenchable fire he felt in his heart (and his groin) whenever he even had the slightest thought about the student.

Arthur was irrevocably addicted.

The quidditch captain nodded, understanding as he flashed Arthur one last smile, which turned mischievous quite fast.

"In that case..."

Alfred positioned his "wand" accordingly, and considering everything was already lubed and ready to go, all it took was one hard push and—

Arthur practically screamed out in pleasure. So much so that it startled Alfred, who thought he had hurt the professor in some way (though he should have known better, considering he knew by now just how tough and hardened Arthur Kirkland actually was). The student nevertheless stopped and pulled out slightly, unsure as to whether or not he should have continued.

"Arthur, are you all ri—"

"Why the hell would you stop?" Arthur said irritatedly.

"I just thought I—"

"Save your thinking for class time, Jones," Arthur ordered impatiently, his voice a rough growl as he propped himself up upon his elbows, letting his bangs fall into his face in a way that almost made Alfred come right then and there. "As your professor, I command you to keep going. Ten points for Gryffindor or whatever. _Just don't bloody stop_."

The bespectacled blond needed no further urging. Leaning down, Alfred placed one hand on either side of Arthur's head, staring right into his professor's eyes as he began to thrust again. Arthur kept his gaze steady, though he felt like he was looking through a haze, and he stared right back.

Alfred had to lower himself to his elbows as he began to lose strength in his joints, the pleasure rocketing through him and numbing his body to the point where it was difficult to support his own weight for much longer. Arthur was experiencing much of the same as they picked up speed, his back sliding up and down against the table, heating up from the friction. And with Alfred's body pressing up against him from above, not to mention the searing heat between his legs, Arthur was practically hyperventilating from dizziness and bliss.

"Arthur," Alfred panted at last, thrusting in fully to the hilt and pulling back out all the way, only to repeat the action once again. "I think I'm... I'm gonna..."

"Don't you... dare, Jones," Arthur breathed back, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck and pulling him down for a brief, rough and sloppy kiss, more full of tongue than it was of lips. "Not without... consent of... a teacher."

Alfred chuckled, a deep and guttural sound, which was interrupted by a few grunts and groans in the middle. He liked that Arthur could still be feisty, even amidst the throes of mind-numbing pleasure.

"All right," he replied, leaning down past the kiss so that he could gain access to Arthur's ear. "If it... pleases you... Professor Kirkland," he whispered, running his tongue along the inside of Arthur's earlobe, causing the professor to shudder in return. "May I come?"

"Permission granted, Jones," Arthur replied, tightening his grip on Alfred's hair. He moaned as Alfred increased his speed for the final stretch. "Yes, Alfred. _Fuck yes_."

Arthur's whole body was spasming against Alfred's as the two of them reached climax together. Alfred lost all control of his joints, and fell completely on top of Arthur, who was far too spent to care. Plus, Alfred's body was comforting, in the sense that Arthur felt like he fit right in those contours perfectly.

The two of them lay there, ignoring the wetness in between their stomachs, which were pressed hard together. They breathed in silence as they simply took in each other's scent, feeling, sound—each other's everything. The pleasure was swallowing them whole, neither quite able to believe how simply explosive intercourse between them could be. Neither were virgins, but they were definitely new to the realm of ecstasy this great—and frankly, neither desired to travel back into a time of anything less than this. Sex with anybody else would never be the same again.

Although, perhaps from this point on, there would be nobody else.

"Alfred..." Arthur finally managed to say, his voice still somewhat caught in his throat. "I have... class to... prepare for." He was loath to think about it, but it really was true. And if they were to keep this a clandestine affair, then Arthur couldn't just cancel class out of the blue.

The student groaned but managed to lift himself up ever so slightly, his body still shaking as the remaining waves of pleasure finally ebbed through him. He only got up far enough to lean over and give Arthur a slow, soft kiss, holding it there as he breathed in Arthur's warm, fragrant aroma.

"I've got practice," Alfred replied, "though I don't think Ms. Hedervary will be all too pleased at how late I am."

Arthur laughed lightly and shook his head. "Go, Alfred. Don't get in any more trouble."

He leaned up for one last kiss, making sure it was sensual and complete, yet so very simple at the same time—the perfect ending to some earth-shatteringly good sex.

"Just remember, though, Jones" Arthur added, "tomorrow evening, you've still got detention with me. Five to nine."

"Four hours?" Alfred murmured, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"You still need punishment for your insolence," Arthur explained. "And you have been _very_ rebellious indeed."

* * *

**Author's Comments: **

Yeah, that's right. I made Germania headmaster, so come at me. I was trying to decide between him and Rome, or just making Hima-papa headmaster to be done with it, but I liked the ring of Headmaster Germania the most (though Headmsater Hima did come close). Do Rome and Germania have generally accepted human names, by the way? Doesn't have to be canon; just generally accepted. I'm curious, because I haven't seen any around (though I don't read much Rome and Germania, I guess).

This fic is also based off of a conversation with Dunya and Haku, so give them credit for their creativity too. I think Pottertalia in general is our guilty pleasure. Or at least it's mine, and I'm so not sorry for it. I'm having way too much fun for my own good, hahaha. R-18 by request. I don't write much smut, but I could not resist. xD

As stated before, I always appreciate and love anything you have to say, so please drop a review if you have time. Plus, if you have any Pottertalia headcanons of your own, do let me know, and perhaps I could write a few of them.

Happy reading!  
Galythia


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